Winter Lights
by FlippythePenguin
Summary: Harry Potter, devastated from the death of his godfather, has been shoved into the strange world of St. Louis and in order to solve these new murders, Harry has to cooperate with vampires, lycanthropes,and one angry woman. ABHP crossover.
1. I think we have an Emergency

**Title:** Winter Lights

**Author:** FlippythePenguin

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairings**: AB/lots. HP/JS/A/N

**Summary:** Anita Blake has encountered several strange police cases over the years, but she has finally come to the strangest case she's ever had. A boy named Harry Potter, devastated from the death of his godfather, has been shoved into her world and in order to solve these murders, it may take the both of them to help save her world- and the magical world as well.

**Warning**: there will not be HBP in this fanfiction. Later on in the story, there is a possibility bits of the story line will be included, but right now it is only following up until the end of DOM. If you are offended by the pairings, which will be some slash, and also the many pairings that Hamilton has Anita with, please don't read any further. I will not write any lemons. And I also believe in writing characters the way the author has portrayed their POV's, so Anita will be in 1st person, and Harry in third. It's too weird to try changing it, it doesn't feel right once you start writing.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter characters are property of J. K. Rowling and I am not trying to take any of her millions of dollars. The same applies to all of Laurel Hamilton's characters. The only character I own as of this chapter is Heather.

My beta is the lovely XattilaX-theMONKEY. Go love her.

**EDIT**: 5-29-08

**Chapter One: ****I Think We Have an Emergency**

If there was anything that could happen that I would un-happen, it would have been that I was the one who found the girl on the crime scene. She was buried in one of the side alleys under a trash can and from the way the blood had smeared across the sidewalk, she'd dragged herself.

Lt. Rudolph Storr, known better as Dolph, was talking with another officer while I examined the body of a dead man. He was in his thirties, I'd guess. His eyes were shut, but his face was probably attractive if it wasn't covered with blood. The bites along his neck, and down under his torn shirt, proved one thing. He'd been killed by a vampire. Or maybe two.

Zerbrowski was swaggering over to me, mumbling into his cell phone. Probably to his wife, Katie. He was in his pajama pants again. It was, after all, five in the morning already.

"Trains again?" I said, when he flipped his cell phone shut.

He shot me a grin. "Yup." He looked at me, up and down. An eyebrow rose. "Have you even been to bed yet?" he demanded, as I stepped over a large section of dried blood.

"No," I answered, leaning down to stare at a finger that lay carelessly several feet away from the body. "Does he have a finger missing?" I asked.

"Nope," Zerbrowski said, shrugging. "Why?"

I glanced up at him and said, "Somebody somewhere is missing a finger."

"Holy shit," he breathed, crouching besides me. "That's just.."

"Weird," I finished. "Very weird. Get someone over here to bring it to the hospital, I think it might belong to the girl I found."

Zerbrowski gave me a small nod, and ran over to Dolph. I went back over to the body, and measured the bites on his neck and chest. If I was right, which I was pretty sure I was, we'd be on the look out for two vampires. Possibly a Master.

And if it was a Master, you'd think that they'd get the idea by now. Vampires come to St. Louis, and I kill them. Being a Human Servant did have it's advantages, even if I refused to let Jean-Claude give me the fourth mark. I just don't like the idea of signing my life away forever. So he's been giving me the space I've needed.

Someone was gathering the finger off the ground, and something caught my eye. I whirled and stared at the blood trails, totally lost. We were in an alley way, and for some reason, the girl had been crawling not towards the exit of the alley, or even the back, she'd been trying to go against the building. I followed the trail, pulling out my flashlight. I crept forward, and paused.

There was...a stick.

It was lying against the building, and under any other circumstance I would have just shrugged it off and kept going. But as I leaned down and picked it up, I could see the bloody imprints along it, and there was an obvious sign of a struggle. Which meant that one of the vampires had been trying to get her away from it, and probably picked her up and threw her into the middle of the alleyway, where she had crawled to the trash can.

As I flipped the stick over, I felt something...strange from it. It felt like there was magical residue on it.

With a frown I pocketed the stick and returned to the investigation.

* * *

The first thing I did when Detective Tammy Reynolds arrived on the scene ten minutes later, was to ask to talk to her privately. She had looked a little puzzled, but had nodded nevertheless.

We were standing beyond the yellow caution tapes, and I was watching around as I slipped the stick out of my pocket. I handed it to the puzzled woman.

"Have you ever seen something like this before?" I asked her.

Her reaction made me believe that she had. Her face went pale, and her fingers touched the strange stick with something akin to either horror or wonderment.

"Where did you get this?" she whispered, her voice so low I had to strain to hear her.

"It was hidden," I answered.

She looked up at me, her Adam's apple bobbing as she took a large gulp. "This is a weapon that Europe's witches use," she quietly said, twirling it in her hands. "They call it a wand. They use it as a transport from their magical core to the air outside of their bodies."

I frowned. "So there's a possibility that the girl I found could be a witch?"

Tammy nodded. "I wouldn't doubt it."

I frowned, something striking me. "Can't they use their magic without a wand?"

She shrugged. "It's not known to them. They rely on their wands far too much, but it _is_ possible to use their magic without one. They aren't taught how to, though. When they reach a certain age they can buy a wand and can begin to use their magic."

"That sucks," I said sympathetically. "They should learn to use it without their wands, or they could probably get in some tight spots."

"Yes." She stared down at the wand, and reluctantly pressed it back into my fingers. "Take this to the hospital she's at."

I looked at her a moment. "She's probably dead,"

Tammy shook her head stubbornly. "No. She's alive. Take this to her."

I frowned. "Wouldn't you rather hold onto it?"

She shook her head. "No,"

"Why not?"

She pursed her lips, and we both turned as an officer called out for her. She looked at me, a battle raging in her eyes. "Anita...not all power is a good thing."

And I watched her as she walked away quickly, her back stiff.

* * *

I could feel a headache coming on.

My muscles were tense, and I could feel a kink straining on my neck. Reflexively I massaged my temples, taking a deep breath. Zerbrowski was standing a few feet away, looking as impatient as I felt. When Tammy had signed me up for returning the stick- wand- I hadn't realized it would take so long.

"There's no way that kid could have still been alive," he muttered, and when I looked at him, his face was set in a grim mask. "There's no way it's possible."

I scowled, and cracked the bones in my knuckles. "I don't really know," I admitted. "The girl should be dead, but Tammy seems pretty convinced that she's alive."

Dolph lumbered over, his face looking exhausted. "Have you both submitted your reports?" he asked, and I noticed he still wouldn't quite meet my eyes. But at least he wasn't yelling.

"Yeah," I said.

"Mmhm," Zerbrowski seemed relieved. I didn't blame him. Right before I had left to go to the hospital, Zerbrowski had sulked over and told me that we needed to give the police reports on what we had found- meaning the finger, and the girl that it should be attached to.

Zerbrowski and I had planted our asses in a couple of chairs in the large waiting room and there we had remained for the past almost half hour. I was getting rather impatient, and I still didn't know the girl's name.

Zerbrowski kept glancing up at the clock that hung over the desk that seated a secretary, who was trying to look bored, but I had seen her sneak up several looks ranging from curiosity to delight.

Dolph stood still, and it was then that I noticed the report in his hand. "Got her info?" I asked, my impatience shining through.

He nodded, glancing around, before handing it over to me. I flipped through the pages as Dolph drilled, "Her name is Heather Cerise Muldoon."

"Cerise?" I raised an eyebrow.

Dolph shrugged. "It's what her medical records say. She's sixteen years old. Lives in New York City with her mother and her little brother, but goes to a boarding school in England every year. She's allergic to silver, and apparently long haired animals, like dogs and cats."

I sighed, "So nothing at all about why she was wondering the streets?"

"None," Dolph said with a firm voice.

Zerbrowski yawned rather loudly, his jaws popping.

"Ew," I said. "That's disgusting."

Dolph glanced up at the clock that was on the wall over the waiting desk. "Maybe you should head home," He offered to us, eyeing Zerbrowski. "Can't do much tonight. Come back tomorrow around noon."

Zerbrowski eagerly got up and saluted Dolph with a large grin, all signs of his exhaustion suddenly gone. "I'll see you later, Anita." He nodded at me, and sped down the corridor.

Dolph looked down at me, staring over my shoulder. I mentally sighed. He could at least meet my eyes, but Dolph was such a prude asshole. "You should head home too, Blake," he said gruffly. "I'm leaving myself."

I smiled sweetly and said, "Don't worry about it. I can take care of it."

He shot me a dirty look and said, "Fine, whatever Blake. Then you better be into work on time." He left.

I watched him depart, before standing and walking over to the secretary. "Excuse me?" I said, and she looked up at me.

"Yes?" She said brightly.

"Can I have the room number to Heather Muldoon's room?"

While the secretary rattled off the number to me, I gave her a nod and headed off in the direction of the room. I could feel it- she was awake. And I wanted my answers and I wanted them now.

When I pushed open the door to Heather's room, the first thing I noticed was the smell. I paused, and stared at the door in surprise. It smelt almost like...magical residue brushed through the air and out towards me. Just like the wand. I reached into my coat pocket of my leather jacket, and brushed my fingertips across the piece of wood.

The girl was laying on her back, her eyes closed in what looked like a natural sleep. Her hair was a light brown, and fell to her shoulders. Her face was pale, but a large scratch tore across her eyebrow and I knew it was a scar she'd carry for the rest of her life. I glanced down at her hands, and I could see that she was missing her ring finger.

I swallowed. Poor girl. Hopefully she wasn't the romantic type.

I walked closer and said briskly, "Heather. My name is Anita Blake, and I'm a Federal Marsh. And I know you're awake."

She remained still, and after a moment her left eye opened and the oddest eye stared up at me from its surrounding white. One large grey eye was open part way, lazily studying me. Slowly both her eyes opened, revealing a crystal green eye on her right. She stared at me a moment, and smiled.

"Hi," she said in an almost shy manner. "Why are you here?"

I gave a little shrug and said, "I need to know what you remember, Heather."

She made a funny face, and said cheerfully, "Oh, call me Delilah please?"

"Delilah?" I repeated incrudiously. "Why Delilah?"

She smirked at me. "I always hated my name. My Mum always had name issues. My little brother's name is Atreyu. And that's because my Mum always like A Neverending Story." She looked puzzled a moment. "Or perhaps she liked the band?" She shrugged.

I pulled one of the chairs over, and sat down, and said, "But why Delilah?"

She shrugged. "Have you ever heard the song?"

"Song?" I stated, confused.

"Yeah,"she nodded. "You know? 'Hey there Delilah what's it like in New York City, I'm a thousand miles away but girl tonight you look so pretty...'" She trailed off when I continued to look at her, puzzled.

"Never mind that," I said, frustrated.

Heather smiled at me, and said quite cheerfully, "Oh, you must want to know what happened."

I stared at her, taken completely off guard. "You seem perfectly fine with it?" I somehow managed to make my statement sound more like a question.

"Yeah," Heather shrugged. "But I'm not quite sure with how much I'm willing to tell you. You feel like a threat."

I gave the girl an indignant look, before scowling as I leaned forward to peer into her queer eyes. "Listen here, _Heather_." I stressed her name out, and by the disgruntled look she gave me, she had thought I would use her nickname. "It's almost seven in the morning and I want to go home! So just tell me what I need to know."

I pulled out her wand, twirling it around in my fingers. Heather's eyes went wide as she gaped at me. Her eyes followed my every move, as if she were going to pounce. I stuffed the wand back into my pocket. "We have a deal here?"

"Fine." She sulked, and looked up at me with wide eyes."Just don't break it, okay?" She sounded genuinely worried. She yelped rather suddenly. She went rather green when she looked at the IV sticking out of her body. As if she hadn't just been watching it.

"Ugh,"she said, crinkling her nose.

"Are you okay?" I said wearily, and the girl smiled sheepishly at me. I hoped she wouldn't puke, I don't think I could handle it.

"Yeah. You wanted to know what happened?"

"Yeah, that would work out fine."

She scooted up into a sitting position, and began her tale with a great flourish. "I was on my way to my Daddy's house," she said. "And I thought I heard a cat, and I've always loved cats even though I'm really allergic to them. So I'd thought to myself, why don't I go help the cat? So I walked into the little alley between the brick house and that grocer store there. And there wasn't a cat there."

It almost seemed wrong, but she pouted when she said this. I watched her, observing her movements. She was obviously nervous. I wondered if she realized that she should be dead.

"There was a woman in the corner, and she was crying," she softly said, her eyes on her lap. "I was sad, watching her like that. I offered her help, I told her I'd get her to a hospital."

"Did you see any vampires?" I asked.

She frowned, concentrating one something that I couldn't see as she softly whispered, "There was a man there, and he was laying on the ground bleeding. Another man jumped from off the grocer, and he knelt over him."

For some odd reason, I was fascinated with the story. From the look on her face, Heather obviously was as well.

"He bit him, and I screamed. I backed up, towards the entrance." Her voice lost her dreamy quality as she hissed, "That little bastard turned around and knocked me off my feet. My wand was sent flying. I tried to get it back, and he picked me up and threw me away from him." She paused, and frowned rather suddenly.

" I think I passed out." she mumbled, scowling. "I remember waking up, and trying to crawl away from him."

"And the woman?" I asked, "Was she there still?

"No," the girl said. "Another man was with him, and they we're both feeding off the man from before."

"What happened afterwards?"

"I don't know. They both ran off or something, because the next thing I remember was waking up here."

"I'm the one who found you," I admitted. "Nobody had seen you."

"I know that," Heather said calmly, "I was under protection spells so nobody could locate me. But obviously it didn't extend onto vampires."

I frowned, and we both went silent. The beeping of the heart monitor was almost comforting in the silence of the washed out room. "And the woman?" I finally said, "Was she hurt?"

Heather looked at me, bewildered.

"You said she was hurt before?" I said, confused.

"Oh," Heather said. "She wasn't hurt. She was trying to kill me, on purpose."

"How do you know?" I demanded.

The girl looked over my shoulder as she said, "She works for a known murderer in Europe. I was targeted because of my bloodlines."

"Bloodlines?" I repeated, confused.

Heather looked at me, and I found myself caught in the eyes of the strange witch. "Can I have my wand back now?" she whispered, and I gave her a curt nod as I fished it out from my jacket.

With the stick firmly in her hands, she looked much more peaceful. Even so, she looked at me grimly and said, "Don't you worry about it, Anita. She is un-doubtfully dead by now."

"How do you know though?"

Her eyes bore into mine and she whispered, "Because all things dark must die."

**6 months later.**

December.

Harry was absently plucking at the sleeves of his Hogwarts robe, watching as Ron and Hermione yet again began to banter at each other. His eyes returned to skim the page of his Potions book he had been absently reading before his two best friends had been to argue.

"Harry," Hermione said briskly, plopping next to him on the bench. He looked up at his best friend, and smiled softly. Hermione truly was someone he could trust with everything, he decided as he watched the bushy haired girl pool over her own work as she worked off her anger on correcting his Potions essay that he had left carelessly beside his open book.

"Hermione," he greeted the girl quietly.

She paused, and stared at him with a frown. "Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" All of her previous anger had vanished from her voice, leaving only her worry. Harry controlled the urge to roll his eyes. Half of him wanted to start screaming and yelling about how nothing was right anymore- that nothing would ever be right again. _Ever._ But he knew if he did, Hermione would probably rush him straight to Dumbledore. Or worse- to Madam Pomfrey.

Harry almost shuddered at the mere thought.

Then again, he considered. It wouldn't be so bad. She'd say something like, "_How do you feel, Mr.Potter?_"

And he'd reply, "_Just dandy. But you know, I've been thinking lately about killing the woman that killed my godfather. I'd enjoy watching her writhe under the Cruciatus curse while I stand over her body and laugh._"

He'd probably be sent to Azkaban, but still the thought had merit.

He came back to himself though, when someone pressed a cool hand against his forehead. He blinked owlishly at Hermione, who was frowning with concentration.

He remembered she'd asked him a question.

"I'm fine," he snapped, swatting away her hand.

The girl scowled at him, and turned away from him to glare down at his potions essay once again. "I'm just worried, Harry." she said shortly. "You've been acting weird ever since this summer."

He went rigid.

Hermione's eyes were on him again. "You've changed ever since he died, Harry. Sirius wouldn't want you to-"

"How do you know?" Harry hissed, eyes flashing as he stared down his friend. The girl shrank away under his hot glare, softly saying something that he didn't catch.

"How?" Harry continued to rant, his lips curled back in a snarl. "You don't know, and you never will. He's _dead._ He's never going to come back! And if I hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't have risked his life for me!" Harry got to his feet, gathering his things as he shoved them angrily into his bag.

Hermione rose from next to him. "Harry," she whispered, reaching out to touch the sleeve of his robe. He froze. "You can always talk to Ron and I, or maybe you could go talk to Dumbledore? He might be able to help..." she trailed off when Harry wrenched his sleeve out of her grasp.

"Harry?" She said in a quiet, lost voice.

Harry looked back at her, and snarled, "No. I don't need to talk to Dumbledore. If he wants to talk then he can come and find me himself!" He whirled and stomped out of the Hall, seething with anger.

How dare she bring up Sirius? His mind shouted accusations at the bushy haired girl as he stormed down the corridor. A small Hufflepuff squeaked when she saw his face, and took off in the opposite direction. Harry froze, and let out a large sigh as he watched the small girl flee from him.

He leant against one of the stone walls, and let his eyes close. He could still see the accusations in Sirius' voice as he'd told him last year, "_Your father would-_" Abruptly he shook the thought away almost desperately.

A soft giggle reached his ears, and he snapped into attention to blink at a girl that was standing before him. He noticed her eyes first- a queer blue color. And then he took note of her small nose, and her full lips, and her brown hair, he saw the mud across her face.

And then he noticed she was in Slytherin, and he quickly stood straight and drew his wand in one swift movement.

The girl didn't appear to notice the wand he had pointing at her chest. She continued to smile on, appearing very pleased.

"You're Harry Potter?" She asked, looking excited. She had an American accent.

Harry paused before giving her a small nod.

She beamed, and held out a hand to him, "My name is Delilah," she grinned. "I'm in your year, only you probably haven't seen me before because I actually started a year after you because I live in America and I didn't get my letter until I was 12, but that's okay! I'm here now!"

Hesitantly, still keeping his wand focused on her, he took her hand. She pumped his hand firmly, and Harry quickly let go. Her hand had felt funny.

"Hello," Harry said, feeling awkward.

The girl, Delilah, was brushing the streak of mud from her face. "Jesus," she scowled, scrubbing furiously at it with the sleeve of her black robes. "You would think that wizards had more dignity then this!"

"Who did that to you?" he asked, curious.

She shrugged. "Some of my house mates. They don't like me much."

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "I'm muggleborn. And apparently that is a big 'no-no' for the 'noble house of Slytherin.'"

He could hear the quotations in her voice.

His mind was tied around what she had said though. "You're muggleborn?" he said, startled. "No wonder they hate you! All of Slytherin are prejudiced against muggles! Are you okay there?"

She smiled brightly, her face lighting up. Harry realized then she was actually pretty. "I'm fine," she said. "I have a couple friends in the younger years, who don't agree with Malfoy and his gang."

Harry noticed right away that she spoke withher hands as well as with her mouth. Her small hands traced figures in the air as she shrugged them around. His eyes found themselves drawn to her left hand, and he froze. There, on that hand, she was missing a finger. Harry quickly adverted his eyes, not wanting to seem rude.

She had noticed, though. "I was almost murdered half a year ago," She said quietly. Harry watched her, eyes wide. "Back in America." She paused suddenly, and looked at Harry full in the face.

"I heard about your godfather," she said quietly. "I just wanted to say that if you ever need someone to talk to-"

The rage that had disappeared talking to the girl came roaring back with a furious energy. His anger over pooled out into his voice as he said, "I'm fine, thanks."

The girl looked hurt, and Harry almost flinched. She had just been trying to help him, he realized as the girl shied away from him.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean too-"

"No," she interrupted smoothly. "It's okay, I shouldn't have pried." She shot him a wavering smile. "I'll see you later Harry?" The Slytherin girl looked so hopeful that Harry found himself nodding.

The girl broke out into one of her large smiles, her face lighting up. "Bye!" She called, as she skipped down the halls, humming to herself. Watching her go, Harry was struck by how much she reminded him of Luna.

But she was almost murdered...

How could she go on, smiling? She was hated because of her blood, and she had just talked to one of the people that would, in the end, get her killed either way.

He shook it off, as he turned and continued his way through the corridors. Talking to the girl had suddenly got him into the mood to talk to his former teacher and friend of his parents- Remus Lupin.

* * *

Remus, Harry decided, needed to get more sleep.

The werewolf had opened the door to his private rooms, looking startled as Harry had looked up at him and said, "Professor, we need to talk."

He had stared down at Harry, before moving over to allow him room to come in, "I thought I'd said you could call me Remus," He had chided, closing the door behind him. The werewolf had been allowed to live in Hogwarts after he had been kicked out of his home by the

Now Harry sat on a small sofa, watching as Remus brought a cup of tea over to set on the coffee table before them. Harry gratefully took the cup and took a small sip, savoring the warmth.

"How have you been, Harry?" Remus asked, his amber eyes full of worry.

Harry mentally wondered to himself if that was all that anybody asked him anymore. It seemed every time that he would be around someone, they wanted to know "how he was." Dean and Seamus gave him looks like he was about to break at any moment, Neville was even more clumsy around him, Ron would give him awkward pats on his back, and Hermione hovered like a mother hen.

His mother was dead. He didn't need a replacement.

Harry scolded himself again for thinking such harsh things against his friends. They didn't deserve it, and he knew it, it was just that he hates to be pitied. He hated that they were constantly worrying about him. They should be worried more about themselves, he thought. They were far too close to him. They would be easy targets for Voldemort.

He quickly banished his line of thoughts, instead he focused on Remus, who was bringing his own cup of tea over, sitting across from Harry. He was carefully watching Harry, his amber eyes patient as Harry took a deep breath.

"I'm," he struggled to find a way to end the sentence- he had been saying 'fine' for so many months that it was almost an involuntary action. "doing better." he said.

Remus blew gently onto his cup of tea, and said quietly, "Would you like to talk about him?"

Harry knew he meant Sirius.

"Not really," Harry admitted quietly.

Remus' lips quirked into a rueful smile. "It's still to fresh a wound, even though it's been six months." He was speaking from experience, and Harry could hear old sorrows crawling form beneath his calm exterior.

Harry gave a curt nod, watching Remus the way a man lost in a desert would look at water.

Remus was watching the fireplace now, that crackled behind Harry. It was the only source of light illuminating the room. Remus' face looked older somehow in the glow, and Harry was painfully reminded of Sirius' face as he-

No. Not thinking about that.

Remus softly murmured, "The pain never goes away, Harry. It will live with you until the day you die, but it is possible to live with the pain." He paused, taking a sip of tea. Harry found himself mimicking him.

Remus cleared his throat. "When your parents died, I was still young, though not as young as you are. After I heard about Sirius, I wanted custody of you. Of course, that was impossible." he gave a spiteful smile.

Harry understood. Werewolves couldn't have custody of children.

Remus continued, "I learned to live with the fact that my best friends were dead, and that all three had been a result of one joining with Voldemort." He gave another ironic smile. "Of course, now we know it was Peter, not Sirius."

Harry nodded.

Remus sighed. "It's wrong, Harry, that you have had to face so much death in your short years, but what has happened, has happened." he took another gulp. "Sirius loves you, Harry. Never forget that. As long as you remember how much he loves you, it makes the pain not so hard to handle."

Harry stared into Remus' eyes, and he could almost swear that he could see battle scars torn into the werewolf's very soul, carving out eternity. It frightened him.

Remus gave a little sigh, and said in a much more cheerful voice, "Have you plans for the winter holidays?"

Harry shook his head, knowing Remus was changing the subject but not really minding. He didn't enjoy seeing Remus in pain. "No," Harry admitted. "The Weasley's offered, but I didn't want to bother them."

Remus tilted his head. "And Hermione?"

Harry shrugged. "I think she's going to her grandmothers house," he said. "Hermione says she's really old fashioned. She told me that her grandmother would think we were dating or something." he crinkled his nose at the thought.

Remus smiled. "You harbor no feelings for her?" He sounded genuinely curious, which cause Harry to jerk his head up to gape at the werewolf.

"No, no!" Harry snorted. "That'd be gross. 'Mione is like an annoying sister, or a mother hen or something! Not a girlfriend!"

Remus chuckled. "And Ron?"

"Is madly in love with her." Harry said, feeling proud of himself.

Of course, he really shouldn't. He wasn't the one who had noticed. It had been Ginny who told him.

He and Ginny had been sitting together in dinner, a comfortable silence between the two, and Ron and Hermione had both gotten into another one of their arguments, which had resulted in Hermione storming from the room, with Ron close on her heels.

The fifth year redhead had turned to Harry and said quite promptly, "You know right?"

He had said, "Know what?"

And she'd stared at him incrudiously, "That those two are madly in love!"

He had spit his pumpkin juice across the table, onto Colin Creevy who had looked far too happy for someone that was soaking wet.

Harry had stuttered, "How do you figure?" To which Ginny gave him a pointed look and went back to eating.

He had spent the weeks afterwards studying his two best friend and he had come to the conclusion that Ginny was, indeed, right. The two acted like an old married couple. Harry had known he was sort of oblivious when it came to love, but he hadn't realized that someone as smart as Hermione could be ever more oblivious then himself.

Remus was smiling as Harry drifted back from his thoughts.

"Do you plan on staying in Hogwarts?" Remus questioned.

Harry nodded. "I figured it was the only place to go," he admitted.

Remus pursed his lips and said slowly, "There is someplace you could go. To get away for the break, to get away from everyone for the break."

"Some place?" Harry asked, curious.

Remus nodded. He nodded towards Harry's tea cup. "You finished?" he asked.

Harry looked down, startled, and said "Oh, yeah," and handed the cup up to Remus. He murmured a spell, and the cups were cleaned, and they rose into a cupboard in the far corner of the room. Harry watched the cups, and realized once again how much he loved magic.

Remus leant back onto his seat, closing his eyes momentarily, before opening them again. "It's pretty far away," he said. "So you wouldn't be interrupted by any of us wizards. It was a house that Lily bought for Petunia, but she refused to move there."

Of course, Harry almost snorted. The idea of Aunt Petunia accepting anything from her sister was crazy- Petunia hates everything that had to do with magic. Harry, and no doubt his mother as well as his father.

The idea was enlightening though. He could have a place to get away form everything and just rest a bit. Everything would be good, and he could just have time. Time to think, time to puzzle over the prophesy, time to plan how to kill a certain Death Eater with long wild black hair..

Remus continued, "It's in America though."

Harry looked up, startled. "America?" he repeated. All hope vanished. There was no way Dumbledore would allow him free passage to America by himself.

Harry's disappointment must have been clear because Remus quickly said, "I already talked to Albus about it, and he was all for the idea. He agrees with your friends- he thinks you need to get a way for a bit."

Harry stared at the werewolf, searching for lies in amber eyes.

He slowly smiled.


	2. Pressure

**Title:** Winter Lights

**Author:** FlippythePenguin

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairings**: AB/lots. HP/JS/A/N

**Summary:** Anita Blake has encountered several strange police cases over the years, but she has finally come to the strangest case she's ever had. A boy named Harry Potter, devastated from the death of his godfather, has been shoved into her world and in order to solve these murders, it may take the both of them to help save her world- and the magical world as well.

**Warning**: Slash, super amazing creatures, language, suggestive themes. Remember folks, this is SLASH. Y'know, gay boys. If you don't like it, don't read it. In my opinion love is love. Leave it at that. Also, there is a bit of the 6th year mixed in : I thought it'd be cute to redo the whole Ron/Lavender...thing. SO this chap has something you might recognize, only different.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter characters are property of J. K. Rowling and I am not trying to take any of her millions of dollars. The same applies to all of Laurel Hamilton's characters. The only character I own as of this chapter is Heather.

My beta is the lovely XattilaX-theMONKEY. Go love her :

a/n oh wow thanks for the amazing responses I've gotten : this was a little later than planned, I wound up getting ill so I was forced into bed rest (ughh)

How about we dedicate this chapter to the lovely Daemon. : you know who you are babyface!

**Chapter Two:** **Pressure**

That night before dinner, Harry's guilt managed to kick in full-swing. His chat with Remus had been on his mind all day, and Harry decided he'd talk to Hermione after dinner.He felt horrid about the way he had lost his temper like that- he had assumed that he had better control over his emotions, especially since he'd spent all summer working on staying calm.

Actually, he'd spent all summertrying to stay calm, trying to not think about what happened at the Department of Mysteries, trying to pretend that his _crucio_ had worked on Bellatrix LeStrange...

For what it counted, he hadn't lost the handle and destroyed anymore offices.

He sat with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan during dinner, and Hermione sat with Ron. Apparently they were on good terms again. He watched them converse through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.Hermione, of course, appeared to be scolding Ron, and the red-head was looking quite embarrassed. He wondered why, but he didn't want to talk to Hermione until he could talk to her alone.

"You okay, mate?" Seamus asked, slapping Harry on his back.

Startled, Harry choked a moment on his food, before quickly swallowing it. "Yeah," he said dryly. "Thanks for almost killing me." His voice had been laced with sarcasm, but the Irish boy either didn't notice, or he skillfully ignored it.

"Anytime!" Seamus grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes, but looked up when Ginny appeared behind them both, squeezing into the space between Harry and Dean. Her hair was red, and he dimly noted that it wasn't as wild as normal.

"Hello, Harry," Ginny said, looking a bit breathless.

"Hi," he mumbled, puzzled. "What's with your hair?"

Ginny smiled, her face lighting up. "I had Hermione help me use that spell she used on her hair during the Yule Ball. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah," Harry said, remembering the looks Ron had been giving her all night. Her, and Krum, Harry remembered with a grimace. He had thought Ron was going to stun Krum first chance he could get.

"Does it look bad?" Ginny said, but Harry knew that even if he were to say 'no' to the fifth year Gryffindor, that she wouldn't mind anyway. Ginny was very carefree that way.

"I like it," Seamus offered from Harry's other side.

Dean had scotched over more, and Ginny was sitting rather comfortably between Harry and the dark skinned boy. Harry watched with fascination as she leaned over the table to smile at Seamus on Harry's other side, saying "Thanks, Seamus!"

The biggest surprise of all, however, had to be when Ginny rather abruptly turned her head and gave Dean a kiss. Harry gaped at them, as they linked fingers on the table.

Seamus, apparently taking pity on him, started laughing. "You didn't know they've been dating?"

He flushed when Ginny nonchalantly said, "Oh, Harry's oblivious about all things concerning love."

The three all roared with laugher as Harry sulked.

Ginny continued on, "So, Harry, do you like it?"

"You and Dean dating?" Harry said, confused, causing another roar of laughter.

"No, my hair!" Ginny giggled, and Dean leaned around her to smirk at Harry.

"Oh," Harry blushed. "Yeah, it looks nice."

Ginny beamed again, and tossed her straighter hair in his direction. Harry crinkled his nose, reaching up to pull a red strand from his mouth, "Ugh, Ginny! Control that beast!"

Dean laughed, as Ginny mock-punched Harry in his arm while the grinning boy took another bite of his food. Harry was having a good time with the three, and a glance over in the direction of his two best friends clearly indicated that they had noticed.

"Look out," he whispered to Ginny, pushing around his mashed potatoes with his spoon. Ron was standing, his face red once again, but it wasn't in embarrassment this time. Not at all. He had, apparently, noticed that his beloved baby sister was holding hands with Dean.

Ginny glanced over towards where Ron was storming over, a scowling Hermione pleading with him to calm down.

Dean, Harry noticed, looked a bit pale. Seamus chuckled from Harry's other side, and said cheerfully, " Dean, I'd run if I were you,"

"No," Ginny said, her anger making her face red. "I think it's about time I set Ron right!"

With that being said, Ginny climbed away from the benches, her chin set in determination as her brother stalked over.

"Ronald!" Hermione was saying as they got closer. "Leave Ginny's love life alone!"

"She's too young to be dating boys!" Ron was seething.

Harry sat on the bench, pulling his feet up into the Indian position as he watched the drama slowly unfold before him. He wondered if this was like those soap things on the telly that Aunt Petunia was always watching. He remembered sneaking into the living room every now and then for a glimpse of what his relatives were watching, but he also often remembered being caught. He was always punished with more chores, or being locked away into his cupboard for the rest of the day.

"No, it's okay Hermione," Ginny hissed, looking in that moment as menacing as any Death Eater Harry had ever seen. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. The look on Ron's face had been very comical- he'd gone pale: so pale that his freckles stood out like white on black walls.

Ron stuttered, "G-Ginny! You can't date Dean!"

"Why not?" Ginny said, hands on her hips in a position so alike to that of Mrs. Weasley that Harry almost winced. Ron actually did, though. "Dean is friends with you, and with Harry! Hermione has no problems with him either. So why is it that you have problems with me dating him?"

Ron's face was gradually getting color again, the angry red. "That's different! You're too young to date!"

"I'm fifteen!" Ginny cried.

"Actually Ronald, In some cultures, girls are already grandmothers at her age," Hermione added rather curtly from Ron's side, as she moved around him to stand besides Ginny, both girls facing him down.

His mouth opened and closed, before he said, "Well, I don't want you to date anyone!"

"Why?" Ginny sneered. "Because you're just jealous you can't get anyone?"

Even Harry felt his mouth drop open at that. Now that, Harry knew, was low. But he supposed if he was in Ginny's place even he might have wanted to hit Ron below the belt. From his side, he heard Seamus mutter, "Ouch, that's got to hurt."

Ron's face was bright red and he cried out, "That's not true!"

But Ginny was on a roll however, and she took a step forward, pointing at him accusingly, "You're just jealous you haven't snogged anyone before! You're jealous that I've been snogged before, and you haven't!"

Ron's face, if it was possible, was suddenly such a violent red shade that Harry half rose onto one knee. Ron looked ready to faint. "Who have you snogged?!" Ron said, and Harry sank back down. Ron was going overprotective again, in a changing-the-subject way.

But this scene was growing more viewers. Other tables had begun to notice the argument, and conversations were dying down. Some of the teachers were rising to their feet, but Dumbledore was twinkling away behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Oh, please, Ron!" Ginny snorted. "You're more oblivious to love then Harry is!" Which, of course, caused the green eyed boy to go red in embarrassment. "But even Harry's snogged someone! Harry's snogged Cho, Hermione's snogged Krum, and even Neville's been snogged! And you haven't snogged anyone, so you take out all your frustrations on everyone else!"

Ron's face had gone pale again, and he turned to gape at Hermione, "Y-you...Krum?" He stuttered, suddenly seeming incapable of speech.

The girl genius looked uncomfortable for a moment, and turned bright red when Ginny sneered, "Well, what else do you think they were doing on all those walks?"

Ron gaped and swallowed, mumbling something about the common room, and dashed out of the Great Hall.

Ginny looked pleased, as she sat down next to Harry. "That takes care of Ron," She said grimly, and Dean and Harry shot each other a small helpless look.

"I'll go find Ron," a girl giggled, and Harry looked over to see Lavender Brown leave the table.

Hermione stood awkwardly by Harry a moment, and they both looked away from each other. Hermione cleared her throat, and left the Great Hall as well.

By the time Harry had gathered his courage to approach his best friend, it was already late. He stood awkwardly by the doorway to the Gryffindor common room, watching Hermione pack away her books. She had obviously stayed up to finish her potions essay.

Harry hesitated, watching Hermione start for the girls dorms. He made up his mind, calling out, "'Mione!" as he strode into the room quickly.

Hermione looked back at him, her brown eyes wide in surprise. "Harry?" She said, sounded confused. "Why are you up so late?"

"I could ask you the same," He replied, giving her a lopsided grin. "Knowing you, you've been doing homework."

Hermione sank back into the red couch, the fire causing red to glitter about the room. Hermione could almost pass for a Weasley, Harry thought. Watching the fire burn by her definitely showed her 'inner-Weasley'.

The silence in the room had grown, leaving Harry to feel rather awkward. He cursed himself for once again jumping into something before thinking about it. He shuffled his feet a little, letting his foot scruff against the carpet.

Hermione looked hesitant. "Would you like to sit?" She offered softly.

Harry shot her a relieved smile, accompanied by a small nod. He dropped his bag next to the couch, curling his feet up under his chin once more as he gazed at the fireplace with Hermione in an almost comforting silence.

The burning embers caused memories to stir behind Harry's eyelids, and he recalled that once, what seemed long ago, a face had emerged from those red blazes...

"Hermione?" Harry murmured. "I'm sorry that I yelled at you earlier."

The girl shook her head. "No, Harry. Don't worry about it. I should have known that bringing up Sirius would hurt you. I understand that you need more time to open up to us. It wasn't my bus-"

"No, 'Mione," Harry interrupted. "It was your business. You've known Sirius for as long as I have. You were there when he fell through the veil, you were there afterwards with me." Harry rolled his shoulders in a small shrug. "You have every right to hate me, I had no right to yell at you But it would make you happy if you'd forgive me."

She leaned forward, touching his shoulder lightly. "Harry! Of course I forgive you! I was never mad in the first place. I thought you'd want some time to yourself, is all."

Harry grinned, and leaned forward to pull the bushy haired girl in for a hug. "Thanks, 'Mione!"

Hermione smiled, her cheeks a little red. Harry noted this with a mental grin. It was no wonder Ron was in love with the girl, Hermione really was cute. In a weird way. With lots of hair. And lot's of big, fancy words. And lots of other girly things about the girl.

"Have you found out what it is you plan to do over Christmas break? Surely your not going to stay here again!"

Ugh. He'd forgotten one. And lot's of mother henliness. If henliness was even a word. Which he was sure it wasn't.

Deciding to be wise for once in his life, Harry kindly kept these thoughts inside his head. He settled with a nod instead, blurting out, "Remus mentioned one of my parents homes. I think I want to go there."

Hermione looked impressed. "I didn't know the Potter's had a home, after what happened when you were a baby. Where is it?"

"America," Harry told her, leaning against he lightly. He could feel his eyes being to flutter shut a bit. It really was relaxing here, with Hermione. Just the two of them being friends with the heat of the fire warming his skin. The room was warm because of the fire, and Harry enjoyed the heat. It was something he had never had as a child. There wasn't much warmth in his cupboard, after all.

"Is it safe there?" Hermione sounded worried.

"Remus wants me to go. Would he send me somewhere dangerous?"

"Not on purpose, no." Hermione admitted reluctantly. "But, Harry, you don't know anything about Ame-"

The Fat Lady's portrait slammed open, revealing Ron. What startled Harry, however, was that Lavender Brown was quick to follow him in. She gave Ron a brief, wide grin, before heading towards the girl's dormitories. She caught glance of Harry and Hermione, and shot them a bright smile as she tidied up her mused hair.

"Hello, Harry, Hermione. Lovely evening, isn't it?" Lavender beamed, before running up the stairs. "Goodnight, Ronnie!" They all heard her lingering shout.

"Ronnie?" Harry snickered, before turning to look at Hermione. What he saw made him pause. Her face looked pinched. He immediately noted the happy glow had faded away, leaving her pale. "Hermione? Are you okay? Do you feel sick?" Harry said, touching her arm.

Ron was still in the doorway, and with a few quick strides, he flung himself into the chair opposite the couch Harry and Hermione sat upon. His face was bright with excitement.

"Guess what I was doing!" Ron seemed far to smug. Hermione went stiff.

"What?" Harry asked, puzzled.

A huge grin split across his face. "I was snogging with Lavender!"

Of course. Watching Hermione's pale face, Ron and Lavender's late entrance, their disheveled appearances- It should have been obvious. Thinking about what Ginny had said earlier that night at dinner, Harry agreed. He really _was_ oblivious about these sorts of things.

Hermione had stumbled to her feet, grabbing her bag and muttering something about going to sleep before darting up the stirs out of sight. Harry froze. He had caught sight of her tears. Ron was gaping at Harry when he turned his face back towards the excited redhead.

"What's her deal?" Ron asked. "Girls!"

Harry sighed. There really was nothing he could say to Ron- he'd take it the wrong way and get mad for days. Harry hated it when Ron was mad- no matter how good of a friend he was, there really was something frightening about an angry redhead.

"Goodnight, Ron," Harry chose to say.

And Harry left as well.

Three days later found Harry and Ron in their dorm. Ron was currently explaining his undying love for Lavender- or rather, for her lips- for about the hundredth time. Quite frankly, Harry couldn't see what the big deal was with snogging. It had been nice when he and Cho had kissed, but it was too wet. Cho's crying probably hadn't helped it either, but that was besides the point.

What use was snogging anyway?

Harry sighed, and turned to look at the youngest male Weasley, who was staring dreamily at him.

Harry's control slipped. He slammed his trunk shut, causing Ron to jump and stare at Harry. Sarcastically, Harry growled, "Yeah, Ron, keep staring at me like that and maybe I'll magically become Lavender!"

Ron was still gaping at him, his freckles standing out slightly. "Are...are you jealous of me, Harry?" Ron sounded uncertain. "Because you sound it right now."

"No, Ron," Harry grinned. He thought he was jealous? "You and Hermione are the ones that act all jealous. I'm just saying that snogging isn't everything."

Ron looked at Harry, with an expression Harry could easily read as amusement. "Harry, Harry, Harry," Ron sighed. "You have a lot to learn, mate."

Harry regarded Ron a moment in astonishment, and said, "Apparently, snogging has given you a big ego."

Scowling, Ron smacked Harry across the face with a pillow while the raven haired boy snickered. "Shut it, Harry!" but he was laughing as well. "Have a good Christmas, alright? I'll send our gifts with Hedwig." the owl was remaining at Hogwarts for the break.

Harry nodded, "Right. Make sure you send my love to your mum and dad for me."

Ron nodded, clapped Harry on the back, and left the room as Remus stepped in. Remus squinted at Harry around the four post bed, and a wolfish grin spread across his former Professor's face.

"You ready, Harry?" Remus questioned.

Suddenly feeling rather anxious, Harry nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

An eyebrow rose at that, and Harry found himself smiling sheepishly. Remus looked rather amused, and cleared his throat.

"Let's get up to Dumbledore's office, shall we?" Remus smiled gently, and Harry nodded. He went to pick up his bags, and Remus shook his head.

"The house elves will bring them to the house while we have a chat with the Headmaster." Remus explained at Harry's puzzled expression.

"Ah," Harry murmured. "Hermione would throw a fit."

"Probably," Remus agreed, as they left the dorm and the common room.

They walked through the halls of Hogwarts in relative silence, broken only by their breathing and footsteps. Through the windows, Harry could see the snow falling down, and he almost smiled at the sight. He'd always liked the snow, it was quite something to see.

Dazed, Harry stared at the gargoyle that protected Dumbledore's office. It was finally hitting him. He was going to be going to a house, a house that his parents bought. A house that they had, maybe, at some point lived in. Remus had obviously been there before, if the way he knew about it was any indication.

He was actually feeling nervous.

As they both entered Dumbledore's office, Harry was almost pleased to see that the room was no longer in ruins. Harry had made a big deal of staying as far from Dumbledore as possible the past month he'd been back at Hogwarts, his shame at what had happened very great.

Dumbledore was standing next to Fawkes, smiling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Ah, Harry," He greeted, eyes twinkling. "Remus."

"Headmaster." Harry replied.

Dumbledore moved closer, sweeping an arm out towards the fireplace to his left. "Is everything in order, then?" He asked.

Remus nodded. "I'm going to escort Harry to his home, and I will remain there until later tonight. "

"Good, good!" Dumbledore twinkled. "Now, Harry. If you ever have any problems, or wish to return before the end of the week, fire call us! Or just floo back."

Harry nodded meekly. "Yes, Headmaster."

The twinkle dimmed a bit in the old man's eyes, and blue eyes regarded Harry full of sadness. "Dear boy, you must not blame yourself for what happened last year. I place no blame on you. Besides, I have more then enough belongings."

Almost scowling, Harry snapped, "Can I go now?"

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "Remus?"

The werewolf nodded, and said, "Come along, Harry." as he approached the fireplace. Throwing in floo, he shouted, "Potter's Place, St Louis!" He disappeared into green flames.

Sighing, Harry followed behind him, saying the same as his werewolf mentor, and the last sight he saw of Hogwarts was the sad smile on his Headmasters face.

Harry dimly realized his eyes were closed when he heard Remus chuckle and say, "Harry? We've arrived."

The house was, to say the least, incredible.

"Wow," Harry breathed, spinning in a circle to take in as much of the sight as he could. The fireplace Remus and Harry had come flying out of was beautiful, with black stones. The floor of the room was wood, and Harry eagerly trotted down the first hall he found, with Remus following behind him, chuckling.

The room connected to the living room was a large kitchen. There was an island, with marble counters. A small table sat towards one side of the room, large windows revealing a snowy garden in the backyard.

Harry stared out the window a moment, before bounding off again.

He and Remus went through several rooms, Remus murmuring a tale or two about certain objects or paintings that lines the walls. They went through about five different bedrooms before Harry found one he liked.

The walls were dark green, and the bedspread was black with silver lining. He thought the room was a bit Slytherin, but something about the room really drew him in. He stood there, in the center of the room looking out the windows the revealed a descent sized front lawn with a small black fence between the sidewalks and his grass, and he smiled.

Remus poked his head into the room, and said, "Is this the room you've chosen?"

Harry turned, and looked at Remus with a bright face. "Yeah," he grinned. "Isn't it grand?"

Remus nodded, looking puzzled. "Odd, really."

"Odd?" Harry repeated, an eyebrow raised.

Remus' eyes slid over to Harry, looking amused. "This room your mother decorated herself. She told your father, Sirius and I once 'This will be Harry's room when we come to visit Petunia and Vernon. He will love this room.' Of course, the rest of us put it off as foolishness." Remus paused. "You truly like this room?"

"Truly," Harry said and smiled. No wonder he had loved it- his mother had made it for him.

Remus grinned back at the beaming boy. "Shall we go have a cup of tea before I return to Hogwarts?"

Harry looked up, dismayed. He had forgotten that Remus was remaining at Hogwarts. "Wont you be lonely?" Harry asked. "Your welcome to stay with me."

Remus chuckled. "I'll be fine, Harry. I have Albus and the other Professors there."

"Oh," Harry said, and together they went to have tea.

While Remus brewed the tea, Harry sat on one of the black couches in his living room, smiling as he thought over how lucky he was to have such freedom. No professors, no expectations, just Harry.

No wonder Hermione was so worried. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Hermione face.

Remus returned with their tea, and Harry eagerly drank it down.

Remus was watching him, with a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Harry gave him a curious look, and Remus cleared his throat. "Would you like to hear some stories about my time in Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded eagerly, and curled up on the couch.

"Once, when we were in third year, Sirius had the grand idea to set thirteen black cats on Severus on Halloween night..."

They spent the rest of the day in laughter and memories, and when it came time for Remus to go, Harry found himself rather disappointed. He had never really connected well with adults as a child, or even as a teenager, and his talks with Remus truly made him feel loads better.

Remus was slipping on his cloak, and had the floo powder in hand as he stood before the fire. He threw the floo in, and Harry watched him with sad eyes as Remus stepped into the green flames

"Harry," Remus said, his eyes twinkling and reminding Harry ultimately of Dumbledore. "If I were you, I'd search the house for a certain portrait."

Harry stared at him in mystification as Remus disappeared with a shout of "Hogwarts!" Rolling his eyes, Harry returned to his position on the couch, curling up for a little nap.

The next morning, Harry decided he wanted to look around the city he was currently in. He knew it to be St. Louis, but besides that small bit of information, he did not really know much else.

So he gathered up his wits and he put on his muggle clothes- which were a bit over sized, except for the jeans that Hermione had given him over the summer- and he went exploring.

He walked up the small path in his yard, shivering slightly against the cold of the winter chill. He noticed the brightly strung lights that hung from houses and tress. There were a lot of blow up Santa's and Rudolph's, and they made him crack a grin. Small children playing in their yards greeted their neighbor as he passed, and Harry was quite determined to find himself somewhere peaceful.

He found himself into the city after a good half hour of peaceful strolling. The city was marvelous, and the shops were even grander. He lingered in the doorway of a small bookshop, before entering it. He browsed around the novels that littered the walls, and caught sight of a rather queer book title.

"Lycanthropy, Vampires, and other creatures," He muttered the title under his breath. He immediately thought of Remus, and continued on.

Somehow he managed to find himself lost.

He strolled down the street, and the feeling hit him rather suddenly. It felt like nothing he had ever felt before. He knew what Remus' magic felt like- a brush on his face like fingers reaching out to brush away tears, or to smudge away dirt- and the magic that was touching him now was almost making him sneeze.

He peered up into the building that was bright with lights on the dimming day and evening began to brew in the distance. "Animators, Inc," Harry read, perplexed. Using his gut instinct, he continued on.

He found himself this time at a small park, that still had a couple swings set up. Apparently, the city had not yet taken them down even though it was mostly too cold to be playing on the swings.

Harry sat on it, delighting in the simple joys of pumping up and down with the ground under his feet. It was like flying- only unlike having complete freedom of the skies, it was like he was being held back. Even so, he liked the feeling.

Harry sat there, swinging and swinging, until the night had fallen and the skies were no longer bruised purple far above. With the arrival of the night, the air had become colder than before, and his face was stinging and his breath was showing in front of his face.

Just as he'd decided he'd had enough exploring for one day- after all, Christmas was only in three more days, and he needed to wrap up the gifts he'd bought last time he'd been to Hogsmeade- he heard a curious sound. It was almost a growl from a cat, only it was much louder.

Feeling utterly ridiculous, he said, "Crookshanks?"

From out of the darkness, two large brown glowing eyes peered out at him, and the next instant he was tackled off of the swing by what he at first thought was a mini horse.

"Merlin!" He shouted, as he felt teeth tear into his arm. He managed to shake the cat loose, but as the cat bounded off into the darkness, he couldn't help but get that quirky dreaded feeling in the pit of his stomach that something had happened that he wasn't going to like.

Which, for once, had nothing to do with Voldemort.

The next morning, Harry was definitely worried that something wasn't right. He had cleaned the cut the night before, but even now his arm still stung as if the teeth were still embedded into his skin.

He sat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling bitterly. How could these things always happen to him?

Remus was one fire call away, but Harry was reluctant to call the werewolf. It was Harry's problem, after all. Besides, how could he prove that he could be trusted with his own safety if he showed up with a large bite that for some reason was causing his magic to shift under his skin weirdly.

Harry groaned, and shouted, "Merlin, it would be easier if I knew where to go to help!"

It was as if his prayers were answered in some weird other worldly way, but thinking about it, Harry realized that his whole life was rather other worldly.

Somehow, he had Apparated into what appeared to be a rather normal house.

Of course, what wasn't normal was that he had obviously just Apparated into a house in front of a muggle, who was sitting on the couch with a gun laying next to her. The woman was staring up at him, her mouth open.

Harry gaped at the equally shocked woman. They were both frozen, as if someone had clicked the pause button. Both, apparently, caught themselves as Harry reflexively began to reach for his wand in his back pocket. Faster then anybody he had ever seen- even himself, and he'd prided himself on his speed as a child- the woman had twisted away and he found himself with a gun between his eyes.

Harry was shaking as he slowly rose his hands into the air. His wand was tucked into his jeans pocket and un-doubtfully the woman would blow out his brains if his fingers even twitched. Besides that, it was his first time actually seeing a gun up close. Uncle Vernon had once held out a gun when he was 11, that first night he met Hagrid, but that was the only time.

Of course, in primary school he had seen paintings and drawings in books but that was as far as his knowledge went. After all, wizards had no need to guns- not when they had magic.

"Who the fuck are you?" The woman hissed through clenched teeth. "And why the fuck are you in my fucking home?"

"Harry," He replied, his voice shaking. Merlin, it was times like these he wished he knew how to get ahold of muggle police, or even some Aurors.

Holding the gun in one hand, the woman reached into her coat pocket and held up a badge in his face.

"I'm a Federal Marsh, kid," She said. Harry almost reeled back in shock. She was a cop. Well, bloody hell. There went that idea.

"So you'd better start talking I just got home from a murder scene, and I'm tired and I want to shower and go to bed. If you don't talk now, I can always get answers from your bloody corpse!" Her eyes were serious.

And, he noticed, quite pretty.

Of course, considering he was weaponless with a gun pointed between his eyes, he really shouldn't have been noticing pointless details like how pretty she was. Her hair was dark, and it was pulled up into a messy ponytail. Her face was determined, and obviously pissed. She had a small stature, but Harry noticed in disgust that he was even smaller.

Altogether however, she reminded him immensely of Hermione and he suddenly realized how much he wished that the brown haired genius was there with him. She'd know how to get him out of this mess, she knew everything.

"My name is Harry, ma'am," he said softly.

Her face was set in stone. "Tell me why the fuck you're in my house."

"I-I wanted to find someone to help me, and I wound up here," Harry quietly told her. It was, however, partially the truth. He just didn't tell her how he got there.

Harry, however, felt his body begin to shake terribly. It was like nothing that had happened before. He hadn't even trembled so much in Voldemort's presence, let alone to some muggle. In the back of his mind, he could hear a darker part of himself almost laugh, whispering the names of his relatives, before he squashed it away.

"Please, miss," Harry whispered desperately, "Why can't I stop shaking?"

The woman looked startled for a moment, and peered at him from behind her gun. Her eyes widened suddenly, and she lowered the weapon slightly, her eyes studying him closely.

"You're a were-leopard?" She asked, but she sounded all too sure of herself. "I would guess it's because my gun has silver bullets."

Harry flinched, thinking of Remus for a moment. Then his mind connected onto what she said, and he shot ramrod straight, and wound up with a face full of gun once more. "I'm not a werewolf!" He protested, his voice loud and indignant.

The woman snorted, "I never said you were, kid." She rolled her eyes.

Harry took the opportunity. He dashed for the door, the years of running from Dudley and his gang taking over his instincts as he clambered down the stairs towards the front door.

A shot went off behind him and he involuntarily whimpered as the bullet soared overhead and into the wall near the door.

The woman had her gun pointed at him as she raced down the stairs, and in a panic, Harry went to open the door.

It seemed that fate was once again against him, however, as the door slammed open and into Harry's ribs, knocking the breath out of him. Dazed, Harry could only stand in shock as several men piled in through the door. Gathering his wits, Harry tried to dart out the door as the woman reached the last step behind him, but one short blonde man caught Harry around his waist.

"Hey! Slow down a bit!" The man laughed, easily shifting Harry over his shoulder, so that Harry could see several curious faces peering at him from his outdoor freedom.

"Hold him, Jason!" He heard the woman roar as Harry thrashed wildly, clipping the man- Jason, he assumed- on his neck. To his surprise, the man moaned. Startled, Harry froze.

"Jesus," Jason said, and Harry could hear the grin in his voice, "Do that again, would you?" Harry squeezed his eyes tightly together, as his mind went into overload, his nerves practically screaming 'oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.'

"Don't molest him, Jason. He's terrified," another voice said and Harry's eyes reopened, and watched another man enter through the door. Jason was heading up the stairs that Harry had just bolted down, and Harry watched his escape get farther and farther away.

They entered a room that looked a lot like a living room, or a den or sorts. He recognized it to be the room he had first seen the woman in.

The man that had spoken was actually very pretty, almost girly. Harry was uneasy to admit that he thought a man was pretty, so he shoved it into a far corner of his mind. His hair was long, auburn in color, and it was in a braid that reached the floor. Lilac eyes watched him curiously. Harry peeled his eyes away, almost blushing, when he realized the man was dressed in only jeans.

"Bring him into the kitchen," The woman ordered from somewhere up above.

"Sure, sure, Anita," Jason joked. "Since when have you started picking up minors?"

The woman, Anita, glared at him as Jason passed her. "He's a were-leopard!" she hissed. "A new one! And he was in my house!" They had, apparently, found the kitchen because Jason stopped moving.

The violet eyed man stepped closer to Harry, and Harry got an eyeful of bare chest. Red found a home in his face until the man bent down so they were eye-to-eye. "How long have you been a were-leopard?" The man questioned.

Stubbornly, Harry closed his eyes to avoid eye contact with the beautiful stranger. The position on Jason's shoulders wasn't very comfortable, and Harry found himself hoping the man would just _put him down! _A smack on his bum forced Harry's eyes wide open, and a startled yelp from his throat. He struggled again to get down as laughter rang around the room.

The laughter in the room clearly indicated that there was more people there than he had seen.

"Let me down!" Harry growled, mortified.

"You're sounding more like a were!" Jason said cheerfully.

"Hold him," Anita ordered, marching into Harry's vision and towards a counter where a phone rested. "I'm going to call Micah, and find out what he knows."

As she went to pick up the phone, Harry heard the front door open in a quiet manner. Apparently, the others heard as well, because the room went completely silent. Inadvertently, Harry felt himself calm down.

He heard two pairs of footsteps and two men entered the room. One was only slightly taller then Harry, with wavy brown hair, that was almost long in style. His eyes were what caught Harry's attention, though. They looked like cat eyes, yellow in color. Or maybe it was green. He couldn't tell for sure, not from his distance.

The other man was taller then the first man, with dark brown curls and his skin was almost as dark as his hair. Harry swore he could see a piercing on his eyebrow. He looked uncomfortable. Harry wondered why.

"Micah! Caleb?" Anita said, looking startled.

"Anita," The short one greeted. The other man, with the dark skin, was staring at the kitchen floor in shame.

Anita was frowning, "Caleb? What's going on?" It was obviously directed at the man that looked ready to cry or something.

Micah- at least, Harry assumed it was him- looked at Caleb a moment. His cat-eyes drifted towards Harry's still form on Jason's shoulder, and the moment their eyes met, he said quietly, "Jason, let him go."

Jason obeyed immediately, and Harry found himself practically cowering before the small man with the cat-eyes. For some reason, he wanted to fall down for the man. He hated the feeling. Micah motioned for Harry to come closer, and Harry eagerly complied. Micah tipped Harry's head up, so the slightly shorter boy met his eyes. Micah slowly reached forward, brushing away the fringe on Harry's forehead, revealing his lightning shaped scar. Harry heard several sharp intakes of breath from around the room, and he could feel a blush rising over his face in embarrassment.

"What happened to your forehead?" Micah asked softly, but Harry recognized it as an order.

"Got it the night my Mum and Dad died," Harry muttered.

The room was completely silent for about five seconds.

"Aw, he's British!" Jason said, grinning. "Is it true that Brits drink tea all the time?" A blonde woman standing next to him cuffed him over the head.

Micah's eyes were on Anita when Harry let himself look up again. Anita was scowling, even as Micah quietly announced, "Caleb has some explaining to do."

All eyes shifted towards the dark skinned man, and he approached Harry slowly. Harry stared at the man, confused. Something about him seemed almost familiar, in a creepy sort of way. When his eyes met his, Harry stared at him. He had seen those eyes before, somewhere...

Caleb broke eye contact first, staring down at his feet as he muttered, "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to infect you."

Harry stared at the man, confused. "I don't understand?" Harry said blankly, even as an uproar went around the room.

"You infected a kid?" The blonde woman shouted, looking stunned. "How could you ruin his life like that?!"

Caleb refused to look up. Harry looked around the room, wildly. "I don't understand," he repeated. "Are you saying I'm a werewolf?"

Anita was the only one that appeared in control. Well, her and Micah, who was staring at Caleb with an unfathomable expression on his face.

"You're a wereleopard, kid." She told him.

Harry stared at her, suddenly feeling very confident as he replied, "No, there's no such thing as were's except for werewolves."

He caught the attention of several people, who all looked confused. The blonde woman stepped forward and asked, her voice sounding curious, "Do you mean to say that you know about werewolves but nothing else?"

"Cherry," the man that stood behind her said.

Harry frowned, and answered quietly, "One of my teachers is a werewolf. He and my father were friends."

Micah spoke up, "What pack is he of?"

Harry looked puzzled. "Pack? What pack?"

Jason rocketed forwards, grabbing his arm. "He doesn't have a pack?" He looked horrified. "He doesn't have an Ulfric?"

"A what?" Harry asked, confused. Had Remus ever mentioned a Ulfie thing before? Harry was quite sure he hadn't- he would have remembered something that weird sounding. It sounded like something impressive, something important. He would have remembered it. According to the shocked looks on their faces, it was important.

Harry turned slightly to look at Anita, putting his back to the others.

Anita had flung herself into one of the kitchen chairs, and Micah approached her quietly, lightly touching her arm. The auburn haired man walked closer to Harry. Was that pity in his eyes? Harry suddenly wanted to hex something.

Wait. His wand!

Harry's hand crept around his back, towards his back pocket. His hand was almost on his wand just as Jason said, "What's that sticking out of your pants?" And his wand was in the grasp of the blonde man.

Harry spun around to glare at Jason as the handsome man tossed his wand around in the air. "Give me back my wand!" Harry snarled, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Anita jump to her feet, looking panicked.

A wicked grin was plastered across Jason's face. "Hey Anita, I'm playing with..." He paused. "What's his name?"

"Harry," she said in a strained voice. "And don't you dare finish what I think you're planning on saying!"

"Yes, well, I'm playing with Harry's wand." He smirked at Anita and leered at Harry, who flushed.

How could this guy be so, well, vulgar! Besides, Harry was a boy! Boys weren't allowed to say stuff like that to other boys! Uncle Vernon had been very crude about gay men when Harry was growing up, installing in Harry's mind that if Harry ever was a "fag" that Harry would be beaten until he was dead.

Hadn't all kids got told that?

One of the glasses on the table smashed.

The auburn haired man jumped away from Harry, saying, "It wasn't me, Anita! I swear!"

"Of course not," Anita snapped. "Jason, give me his wand!"

"It was Harry who did it," Micah's voice drifted over everybody, and they all turned their attention to the now blushing wizard.

Shit! Harry half expected someone to shoot him dead, just like in those old cowboy movies Dudley loved watching when they were kids. Anita had her gun pulled out on him once again.

" I didn't mean to," He mumbled. Why did these things always happen to him?

"You're a witch aren't you?" She said.

Startled, Harry turned to look at the woman with amazement, "You know about magic?" He whispered, his eyes wide. How could she know about magic? It hit him rather suddenly though. Obviously she'd know about magic, it was obvious that almost everyone in this room was a werewolf. He could feel their magic on his skin the way he could feel Remus'.

Anita said, "We had a case about six months ago that involved a girl that was almost beaten to death. She was completely healed, except for a finger that was cut off. She admitted that she was one of Britain's witches."

A missing finger? Where had he seen that before?

"Delilah?" Harry breathed, and Anita's eyes zeroed in on his face.

"You know Heather?" She asked.

Harry shook his head, stunned. _How could fate be so cruel_, he wondered. Making babies grow up unloved, girls grow up surrounded by people who hate her, having girls have their fingers almost cut off by murderers... It wasn't fair.

"We go to school together," Harry mumbled.

"Are you friends?" Anita asked.

Harry gave a little shrug. "I just met her before I came here."

"That has to suck," Jason said. "You just got here and now you're a wereleopard."

Harry turned to glare at the man, and the lights overhead flickered slightly. "I already told you, I don't know what you mean by leopard!"

Micah stepped forward once more, and Harry was struck be the feeling that maybe this man was their leader of sorts. It seemed as if most of the people in the room gravitated towards him, as if he was their God of sorts.

"A wereleopard is what you are, Harry," The man said, his voice soothing. "We are similar to werewolves, only instead of shifting into wolves, we shift into leopards."

Harry stared at him, searching for a joke. He turned to look at Anita, knowing straight away that she wasn't the type to play a practical joke on him, or anyone really. Just from their small meeting, he could tell she had a 'act first, think later' personality.

Anita looked deadly serious. "Micah is the leader of the wereleopards. Our pard-"

"Pard?" Harry interrupted. "And didn't you just say Micah was the leader? So why are you saying 'our'?"

Jason snickered, and Harry turned and looked- really looked, this time- at the man. He was slim, and probably muscular. His hair was corn silk blonde, and Harry noticed immediately he had no facial hair. His eyes were blue, like the sparkling blue of a summer sky on a cloudless day.

"Anita and Micah are lovers, my dear little Brit. Anita is the second in command of the pard."

Harry struggled with an answer. "Oh."

Micah was staring at Harry when he turned back around. A frown marred his handsome features. "Harry? Do you understand what we're telling you?"

Harry shrugged, carelessly saying, "Well, it doesn't really matter. When I go home, we have medicine I can take."

The woman with the blonde hair jerked him around, shaking him harshly. "You can cure us?" She said, sounding shocked.

Disoriented, Harry pushed her away from him. "No, we just have medicines."

Cherry backed away, back to the man.

Jason shook his head, not looking very impressed. "Jesus, Cherry. You almost knocked the poor kid out!" He turned to look at her, grinning. Harry could see his wand, sitting uselessly in the blonde's hand, and he snapped forward, reaching for it.

Jason pulled away, looking startled. "Calm down, kid," he said, as Harry tried to reach for the wand Jason held out of reach. "If you don't back down, I'll knock you out!"

Harry snarled at the man, and he could see Anita drawing her gun. "Try it, werewolf."

Jason didn't need to. The gun smashed somewhere against his skull, and Harry fell into the waiting darkness that loomed ahead of him.


	3. Here we go Again

**Title:** Winter Lights

**Author:** FlippythePenguin

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairings**: AB/lots. HP/JS/A/N

**Summary:** Anita Blake has encountered several strange police cases over the years, but she has finally come to the strangest case she's ever had. A boy named Harry Potter, devastated from the death of his godfather, has been shoved into her world and in order to solve these murders, it may take the both of them to help save her world- and the magical world as well.

**Warning**: there will not be HBP in this fanfiction. Later on in the story, there is a possibility bits of the story line will be included, but right now it is only following up until the end of DOM. If you are offended by the pairings, which will be some slash, and also the many pairings that Hamilton has Anita with, please don't read any further. I will not write any lemons. And I also believe in writing characters the way the author has portrayed their POV's, so Anita will be in 1st person, and Harry in third. It's too weird to try changing it, it doesn't feel right once you start writing.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter characters are property of J. K. Rowling and I am not trying to take any of her millions of dollars. The same applies to all of Laurel Hamilton's characters. The only character I own as of this chapter is Heather.

My beta is the lovely XattilaX-theMONKEY. Go love her :]

**Update:** 12-25-08

**Chapter Three: Here We Go Again**

I made sure the wizard was locked in Nathaniel's room before I could breath right again. I hadn't exactly been thinking straight when I decided to bash him like that, but I had needed to take action. He was just a kid, and I had never really understood kids. After all, when I was younger I had dead dogs crawling into bed with me. Normal kids didn't have to deal with crap like that.

Harry was, though, in denial- big time. What ever it was that the small boy had been taught had obviously been a lie- and he wasn't taking the news very well.

My lover, and part of another one of my confusing trimviuates, Damian, was currently guarding the young wizard. About five seconds after I had knocked him out, my vampire servant had walked into the kitchen looking as if he wasn't affected by the boy that lay unconscious in my arms. Which, of course, he wasn't.

Ever since I'd gotten the arduer under control I'd been having to eat a lot more to hold it off. Our unawares of this had almost caused Damian to die- more than once.

It wasn't something I was proud of.

Micah was standing besides Nathaniel, his face a blank mask. Caleb was curled up on one of the kitchen chairs, looking ready to cry. That alone was enough to put me on edge. Cherry and Zane were standing close to each other, both wearing identical looks as the one Micah wore. I couldn't read any of their expressions.

Jason walked forward, holding out the wand to me. I slowly took it from him, twirling it in my fingers. It seemed unreal that something so small was a conduct for so much destruction.

"Are you okay, Anita?" Micah murmured, and I turned to meet the eyes of my Nimir-Raj.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I'm just going to call Jean-Claude. I think he needs to know about the kid."

"You said his name was Harry," Jason said.

I turned to stare at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

"You called him Harry earlier." Jason sounded almost annoyed.

"Yeah."

"So why do you call him 'kid' now?"

I think I looked at Jason so long that I blinked several times in stupor. Finally, I gathered my bearings and said, "Well, he is a kid." I gave one last twirl of the wand, and slipped it into my pocket.

Micah's hand took my own, and I looked at him. Our fingers entwined. "How old do you think our young house guest is?" Micah sounded rather cautious.

I shrugged. I was sort of confused. What did it matter how old the kid was? It wasn't our business. "Thirteen," I suggested. "Fourteen."

Micah shook his head. "I believe he is older than that."

"How so?" I demanded.

It wasn't Micah who answered me, though. It was Nathaniel. "Have you ever seen a malnourished child?"

I frowned. "I don't think so. Why?"

"I believe Harry was malnourished as a child, or even neglected. He did not like Jason touching him, or anyone else getting close to him."

"Well, yeah," I snorted. This was all ridiculous. "I'd be the same if I were him, considering he managed to poof out of thin air into my house!"

"We are his pard." Micah retaliated, but not in a cruel way. "He should have felt calm around us, but he did not."

I let this information sink in a moment. "Then how old do you think he is?"

Jason and Nathaniel exchanged glances. It was Jason who told me solemnly, "Sixteen, maybe seventeen."

"You're kidding," I said flatly, and the three shook their heads.

"If he had been younger, Caleb would have been in more trouble," Micah told me.

I shook my head, grabbing Jason's arm. "You're sure he's not a kid?"

Jason nodded, pushing his corn-silk colored hair away from his face so that his sky blue eyes peered down at me. "I'm sure," he said confidently. I let go of his arm.

"Could you tell Jean-Claude about Harry for me?" I asked. Jason watched me curiously, and nodded.

Nathaniel was watching me. "Where are you going?" He asked curiously as I turned around, ready to leave the room.

"Out," I said shortly.

"I will come with you," Nathaniel proclaimed, trailing after me. I froze, and whipped around to glare at him.

Two months ago, he would have cowered before me. Now, he simply smiled cheerfully. "Anita, what if the arduer rises?"

I scowled, searching for an excuse. "Damian might not be able to handle Harry."

"Anita, the young wereleopard will sleep for several more hours," Micah piped up. When I turned my glare at him, he raised his hands, smiling, as he ordered, "Go. Have fun with Nathaniel. There are many of us here, we can watch over Harry."

I turned to Zane and Cherry. The taller man looked steadily back. "You weren't planning on staying long," I told the couple with an accusing tone.

An eyebrow went up. "Plans change," he said easily.

I fixated a glare on Cherry.

"I'm with Zane," she answered.

I wasn't going to win this argument. I knew it, Micah knew it, Nathaniel knew it, Cherry and Zane knew it. Jason stood by me, looking clearly amused. Caleb continued to stare down at the table, silent. With a scowl, I whirled around and stomped down to the doorway, with Nathaniel at my heels. When I turned to look at him, he was holding out my coat to me.

I yanked it from his arms, and he flinched back. I slowly counted to ten in my head while shrugging into my jacket. Nathaniel did the same, handing me a scarf as he trailed after me out the door. I took the wand from my pocket, slipping it into the pocket on the inside of my jacket.

"Anita," he murmured when we got into the jeep. I looked at him. His eyes were focused directly at my face, his violet eyes bemused. "What are you going to do about the boy?"

I frowned. "Nothing yet," I admitted. It was the truth. I had no idea what to do about him. I had no experience with teenagers. My teenage years hadn't been something desired. How many kids had their dead dogs crawl into bed with them? Not many.

I pulled out of the driveway. Nathaniel looked thoughtful. "Do you think he's involved with the same case?" he asked.

Case? I turned to look at him, eyebrow raised, and said, "What are you talking about?"

"The case with the girl about six months ago," he explained. "Remember? You never found the suspects."

"This has nothing to do with Heather," I objected.

"They do have the same type of magic, right?" His eyebrows were furrowed.

"Well...yeah," I admitted slowly, my mind reeling. Heather had been in St. Louis and was attacked, and now Harry had been attacked. Perhaps... "Maybe their magic attracts something in our beasts."

Nathaniel nodded. "When I saw him," meaning Harry, "Something made me gravitate towards him."

"Gravitate?"

"Drew me in. It was like I had no choice."

"No, I know what gravitate means, I was just thinking out loud," I told him.

"Anita! Turn left on the next light!" Nathaniel said.

"For what?" I asked, but I complied to his demands either way.

"You'll see," he replied, and out of the corner of my eye I could see a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

I bit back a growl, and Nathaniel's eyes slid to mine. It was almost as if he knew that I was restraining myself. I hated that more than I hated how I had no idea where we were going or what he had planned. I hate that more than I hated that some kid was knocked out cold in my house. Okay, maybe not more than that. But it was pretty close.

As the cars and streets sped by, I slowly allowed myself to lose myself into the case. Heather's case had gone unsolved- and now I knew that this boy, Harry, knew her. I couldn't help but explore the possibility that perhaps there wasn't a case here. Maybe there were forces going on beyond my control, and beyond the control of the police department.

All evidence of Heather's case had gone missing several days after she had been found and hospitalized. Two days after her release, the files and blood works on the evidence went missing. The police had gone nuts, how could they solve a case without evidence?

Eventually it was dropped altogether.

With a frown, I thrummed my fingers on the steering wheel. Even six months later, that failed case lay heavy on my mind. I remained out of the life of Heather Muldoon after I had not been able to find enough supporting evidence to find her would-be murderers. No matter how much I hated it, somewhere in the world those same vampires were probably ready to kill again- or already have- and we just didn't know it.

Heather had just smiled after we told her we couldn't solve the case, thanked us for our hard work, and she'd left, closing the door with her maimed hand and never looked back.

I had wondered what had happened to the girl with the missing finger. I had wondered about what her friends would say when they saw her, what her parents and little brother would say. She had been in the newspaper, and I had heard whispers at crime scenes. Everyone wondered where she had disappeared to.

She had been sent for four months after the case. They found nothing. Her parents had been tightlipped, and had told them coolly the she was at boarding school.

Possibly, only myself and Tammy knew that she was a witch.

"We're here," Nathaniel's voice broke through my revere, and I blinked myself back into focus, turning in the direction he pointed.

A small coffee shop. That was where he had directed me to, and as I parked the car, I took his hand gently in both of mine.

The smile he gave me was worth it.

* * *

We found our seats relatively easily. Nathaniel ordered us both coffee, and played with my fingers as he softly told me about some joke Jason had tried to play on one of the newer strippers at Guilty Pleasures.

As I sipped on my coffee, my cell phone went off.

Nathaniel froze automatically, and looked to me uncertainly. I quickly grabbed it and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Anita? This is Dolph."

"What do you want?" I asked crossly.

"We have a crime scene, really strange one," Dolph said, and I could hear the frustration in his voice.

"Strange in what sense?"

"You're the expert, Blake!"

"Right. Give me the address and we'll be there."

I quickly jotted down the address onto a napkin, and tensed at Dolph's next words.

"We?" Dolph asked.

"Yeah, I'm out on a date with Nathaniel," I said slowly.

"He can't come."

"Can so. It's an emergency."

Dolph growled, his impatience getting the better of him. "Fine! Just get here soon, Blake." He then proceeded to promptly hang up on me.

I scowled down at my cell before flipping it shut. Nathaniel took one look at my face, and raised his hand.

"Check, please!"

* * *

"I thought you said it was an emergency," I said, staring up at the sky over the house. I fiddled with my shirt for a moment, straightening it, before turning to look at Nathaniel. The wereleopard was staring at the house with an unfathomable expression on his face.

The wereleopard, I admitted to myself, was insanely beautiful. His long auburn hair was twisted into a long braid that was longer then my hair had ever been in my life. When his violet eyes turned to look at me, I was once again struck by just how beautiful he truly was.

"Can you smell blood?" I asked, rather gruffly, trying to shake away my thoughts and put my job back on my mind. I looked towards the house thoughtfully.

When I turned to look at Nathaniel, he gave a helpless sort of shrug.

Dolph shook his head, look mystified. "There is no blood," he said, as he headed up towards the house. I could easily spot his grimace.

"I get the feeling it's crazy on the inside," Nathaniel said.

"You too?" I said, voice tinted dangerously with sarcasm. I marched after Dolph, who conversed briefly with a rookie guarding the entrance. Nathaniel followed after us, his eyes weary.

The rookie guarding the door shot him a rather distrustful look, but looked away when I glared at him.

"It's too early for this shit," I grumbled.

"Ah, you look a bit tired," A rather cheerful voice said, and Zebrowski strolled over, looking as calm as a whistle.

"Hey Anita," He grinned.

"Hello, thorn in my side," I snapped, and gruffly brushed by the irritable man. Nathaniel's fingers trailed across my elbow, and when I turned to glare at him, his eyes were cautious.

"Something doesn't feel right," he said quietly.

I turned to look at Dolph for conformation.

The tall man was glaring at Nathaniel as he answered, "Something isn't right. We have a body with no signs of how she was killed."

I frowned. "Then why would I be called in for a case like this? I don't do this work."

Dolph was scowling. "You got called in, Blake, because Tammy requested you be here."

I stared at Dolph, startled, and turned to look at Nathaniel. He looked as puzzled as I felt. "Where is she?" I finally asked.

Dolph jerked his head in the direction of the house. "Inside." He sounded gruff, and rather annoyed.

I pushed by him, and Nathaniel scurried after me. I slid easily by a couple rookies posted outside what had to be the room that the body was in. I tried to peak in, assuming Tammy was inside the room, but one of the rookies slid in front of me.

"Sorry, miss. Nobody can go through."

I glared up at him. "I'm a federal marshal!"

He looked uncomfortable. "I'm really sorry, miss."

"Blake," Dolph said from behind me, and I turned to look at the tall man. "Tammy's over this way, in the kitchen."

"Right," I agreed, and stomped away from the crime scene.

When I entered the room, I immediately noticed Tammy. She was standing by a little table, with another woman who was fingerprinting a overturned mug

"Hey Tammy," I greeted. She looked up at me, and I could see that she was green. "Aw, shit. You okay?" I asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine."

I studied her face for another moment, before turning to exchanged a look with Nathaniel. The wereleopard was studying Tammy, curiosity sketched into his lilac eyes.

"Let's go outside," she said quietly, and hurried by with her shoulders hunched over. We followed silently. As soon as we moved beyond the premise of the police cars, I spoke.

"Alright, so why did you want to talk to me Tammy?" I asked.

The American-bred witch looked suddenly very weary. She sighed. "It's about the case.." She trailed off.

"Well, what about it? We haven't seen the crime scene yet, and nobody's been offering any information."

Tammy's eyes flickered towards Nathaniel, then she cleared her throat. "I think that this case related to the one six months ago. The one with the girl who got her finger cut off."

"You mean Heather," I said. Tammy nodded, looking uncomfortable. Her eyes flickering towards Nathaniel once again.

"If you have anything to say in front of me, you can say it in front of Nathaniel," I said coolly.

Her eyes flashed back to me, and she opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off.

"No, Tammy. He's with me."

She stared back at me, and whatever she saw in my eyes made her turn away. She took a deep breath, and faced me again.

"It has to do with the society Heather lives in," Tammy said.

"How so?" I asked.

Tammy looked uncomfortable, and twisted her fingers through her hair. "There's a war going on. One that's been going on for many years, and even with brief periods of peace, we've entered the ending of that peace."

"What war?" Nathaniel asked, his head tilted with a look of curiosity. But his eyes looked guarded.

Tammy ran a hand through her hair, and she started to blush slightly. "It sounds really cliché."

"Just tell me!" I practically growled.

"Its war between good and evil."

There was a moment of silence, and I said incredulously, "You expect me to believe this shit?"

"You must," Tammy said softly. "Because if you don't, you won't understand."

"Anita," Nathaniel said. "At least hear her out."

I glanced at my auburn haired lover, then sighed. "Explain then. Quickly."

Tammy glanced around, and said in a extremely soft voice. "It began over twenty years ago, in Europe. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came into power. He wanted to destroy all muggles, completely. The mu-"

"Muggles?" I interrupted. "What's a muggle?"

"A non-magical person," Tammy brushed off my words, and tried to plow on. "Muggles had no way-"

"But why are they called muggles?" I demanded.

Tammy looked at me with exasperation. "I don't know! They just are! Can I continue?"

"Yes," I said sullenly.

"The muggles had no way of knowing. After the fall of Grindlewald, a evil wizard, during the second World War, they hoped for some period of peace. In the late 70's, a new Dark Lord rose."

"Grindlewald was a Dark Lord?" Nathaniel guessed.

"Correct," Tammy confirmed. "But this new Dark Lord was much more terrifying. He had much more power then the previous Dark Lord, and because of this the Wizarding World was thrown into chaos. It was rumored that secret societies were formed, to try to keep You-Know-Who at bay."

"I don't know who?" I said, confused.

Tammy blushed. "I can't say his name."

"Why not?" I demanded. "It's just a name."

"And his name alone caused terror throughout England. He killed hundreds of families with his Death Eaters." She paused and added, "His followers." when I opened my mouth.

"In 1981, he tried to go after a family called the Potters. The Potters were an old family, almost completely pure. The heir to the Potter family, James Potter, married a muggle-born witch. They had a child together, and that child was a half-blood."

"That baby destroyed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

* * *

Harry kicked the door, scowling. How did he always get into these situations? Remus had warned Harry that St Louis was an attraction for trouble, but now he wished he had gotten more information before wandering off into America. Hermione had attempted to talk to Harry about his choices, but instead he had run from her.

Thinking about it now, he yearned to talk to the girl.

A knock rung throughout the room, and Harry turned to look at the door as Micah peeked in.

"Harry," he greeted with a little smile, and Harry's glare notched up. Micah was apparently taken back by Harry's anger, but he ignored it as he causally strolled over to the bed. Harry watched him appealingly- he walked so lightly that it appeared as if he floated. He was sort of jealous. If he could walk like that, he could sneak up on Voldemort...

No. He couldn't let his thoughts wander so much.

Micah was sitting on the bed, watching him through large, lazy eyes. His legs were folded, his back arched, a small smile on his face...

Harry caught himself staring, and looked away with a blush.

If Micah had noticed his wandering eyes, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he asked, "Do you intend to harm anyone in this household?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Depends," he offered in an offhand manner, sliding to the floor.

Micah rose to his feet, staring down at him. Harry watched him from his spot on the floor. Normally he hated to be lower than those he couldn't trust but for some reason he didn't feel the compulsion to prove himself.

Rather, he felt more like sinking lower onto the floor, he longed for Micah's approval, he wanted his approval so badly that it controlled his every single thought, Micah was powerful, Merlin, he was so powerful...

"Harry, calm down." Micah's voice drifted over him soothingly.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Harry scowled, struggling to calm his heart. What was wrong with him?

"Harry," The man said. Harry slowly looked up into the cat-like eyes. Micah crouched low next to him, and Harry resisted the urge to crawl closer. Instead, he cradled him arms to his chest, and slowly rose to his knees. Micah held out a hand, which Harry took, and helped him to his feet.

For some odd reason, he found it amusing that he was the same height as Micah.

"Do you intend to harm anyone in this household?" Micah repeated his previous question.

Locking his eyes with the man took almost all of Harry's will and better judgment. But he knew nothing could be worse than what he'd gone through the previous year in the Department of Mysteries against Voldemort. Some American with weird eyes wasn't going to intimidate him.

At least, he hoped not.

Taking a deep breathe, Harry said quietly, "I will not harm anyone here unless they try to hurt me."

Micah watched him closely, and Harry got that weird vibe like he was trying to read his very soul. Or at least something close to it.

Whatever Micah saw must have pleased him though, because the man nodded slowly. "Nobody will hurt you."

Eyeing him, Harry said slowly, "And...how do I know if I can trust you?"

"We are Pard." Micah replied.

"Yeah," Harry snapped. "What does it entitle?"

Micah's eyes narrowed on his face, his eyes boring into Harry's. The wizard shivered. The way those cat-like eyes studied him now, it made him feel as if the man was trying to read Harry's mind. Not in the way Snape had practically teared his mind apart- no, not at all. More in a way that was like socks on ice rather than bare feet on needles.

"Do you know anything about weres?"

"Werewolves," Harry said promptly. "Didn't I say my godfathers a werewolf?"

Micah nodded slowly. "What did you mean by he has no Ulfric?"

Harry sighed. Remus had never mentioned that word before, and he had grilled him many times on what it was like to be a werewolf. He could tell that talking about his lycanthropy had hurt the older man, but Harry needed to know the information. There were wolves on Voldemort's side, after all, and Harry needed to be prepared.

"I'd rather not say," Harry said coolly, and he slid back to his previous position against the wall.

Micah appraised him for a moment, his strange eyes studying him with an unfathomable look.

"Alright," the man agreed after a moment. "So you know nothing of what you are?"

"No," Harry replied, fighting back the urge to scowl. "I don't."

"Is there anything you want to know?"

Harry scowled furiously. "Bloody Hell, I'm on the opposite side of the globe, I'm worlds away from my society and my friends and family! And I have a woman cop that's way to trigger happy, smacking guns around, and weird men claiming that there is such things as wereleopards! Of course there is stuff I want to know!" Harry paused to catch his breath, and let himself slump against the wall.

Micah knelt slightly in front of him. Harry refused, at first, to meet those strange eyes. But he found it harder to ignore the presence of the man, and so when his green eyes clashed with the animalistic eyes, he had expected to feel that unexplainable urge to prove himself.

He didn't, though. Rather, with Micah more at his level, and looking at him straight in the face, Harry felt more at home then ever before. Something in him, that part of him that guided him through the years and kept him safe, liked this man. This 'wereleopard'.

"Then ask."

"I don't know where to begin," Harry mumbled.

A small, weary smile brushed Micah's lips. For an instant, Harry could see pieces of Remus in this man. Pieces of Sirius Black. For an instant, Harry thought he could see the weight of the world on the shoulders of one man, and found he understand that weight far more then he should.

"I am the leader of my Pard. Anita is, also. Together we rule as Nimir-Ra and Nimir-Raj. The one who bit you was Caleb."

"Caleb," Harry murmured, storing that name into his mind for a later time.

"We will know for sure if you are a wereleopard when the next full moon comes."

Harry jerked his head up, startled. "But that's in two weeks!" he blurted.

Micah smiled inquiringly. "Yes?"

"I can't stay here that long! I have to get back home, back to school!"

The smile dimmed, and Harry almost shrunk away. "No, Harry. You will be staying with us. I won't risk it. If you were to transform, what then? Would you kill innocent people?"

Harry's stomach churned at the thought. He could picture the night Remus almost made a snack out of him. That, the first day Harry truly talked to Sirius, talked for only a half hour at the most and already agreed to live with him, wanted to run away from everything, wanted desperately for Sirius to be the father figure he had despairingly wished for as a child-

He felt sick.

"I don't want that to happen," he said softly, pushing away the memories.

"I didn't think you would."

Harry briefly shut his eyes, and let his magic wash over him. He knew nothing about this world, and being tense and angry was causing his magic to ripple dangerously like Voldemort's. It was uncomfortable and only put him more on edge, and when he felt the chill of death standing just beyond the door he reacted violently.

He shot to his feet, and immediately felt his magic hiss and rumble around as a separate entity in the air around him. Micah jumped backwards.

"Harry. Calm down," Micah instructed.

Still in panic, his magic wild, Harry hissed, "What is this I feel?"

"I don't understand!"

"This death, it's nearby!"

"Death?" Micah looked at the doorway and back, understanding dawning on his face. "You must mean Damian."

"Damian?"

"He's a vampire."

Harry's mouth dropped open, and he choked on his tongue. He gargled, "Va-Vampire?"

Micah nodded. "He lives in this house, with Anita, Nathaniel and I."

"Lives here? Where, in the basement?" Harry nearly giggled at the thought. A vampire living in a basement, what next? Ron had a ghoul living in his attic.

His magic was drawing in, now that he was gaining control of his emotions. It was still a separate entity as it thrummed just on the surface of his skin, still on edge but definitely more controllable.

"Actually, yes." Micah appeared amused.

Harry blinked. "Oh."

"Now, whereabouts do you live?"

Harry shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest."

"Will your parents be missing you?"

Harry's expression darkened. "Haven't got any of those. I've a house that they left me. That's where I'm staying during the duration of my stay in America."

"I see. . ." Micah looked at the door behind him, then back towards the young man. "Well, how about we try to find your house so you can gather your belongings, and you can stay with us until the full moon?"

"And. . . afterwards?" Harry asked slowly. "If I do transform into this supposed leopard?"

Micah smiled crookedly, in such a fashion that Harry had seen Sirius do countless times. A stab of pain wormed it's way through to his heart, and Harry quickly blocked the emotion.

"We'll worry about that when the time comes."

Micah took several steady steps towards the door, and knocked. "Damian, let us out."

The door creaked slowly open. Curiously, Harry squinted his eyes through the small crack. He caught a glimpse of red, but when Micah opened the door fully, there was nobody present.

"Come along, Harry," Micah called from the hall. "We're going to find your house. You can do magic, can you not?"

"Yeah. . ." Harry said, suspicion curling in his gut.

"Well, can you use this to find your house?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. We can take Jason's car, then."

Harry started to nod, and froze halfway through the doorway. When Micah cast him an inquiring glance, Harry couldn't help but to smile sheepishly.

"I need my wand for that."

Micah sighed. "And Anita took it with her. I guess we're waiting, then."

Harry nodded, and took a huge sigh before following after the small strange eyed man, as it suddenly dawned on him that his life was about to drastically change.

Again.


End file.
